


Brought To You By Sears

by em2mb



Series: Agent Carter Christmas Shorts [2]
Category: Agent Carter (TV), Captain America (Movies)
Genre: Backstory, Christmas, F/M, Fluff, Gen, Kid Fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-12
Updated: 2016-12-12
Packaged: 2018-09-08 03:33:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8828743
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/em2mb/pseuds/em2mb
Summary: Peggy groans and buries her face in the pillow. “Remind me why we had children again?” she asks, voice muffled.


  “Because we wanted them,” Daniel reminds her, pulling the covers up strategically before their 7-year-old son and 6-year-old daughter can burst through the door.

The Sousas take their children to visit Santa.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Another Christmas short from my Peggysous universe.

**December 12, 1957**

Peggy hums contentedly as her husband presses soft kisses to her bare shoulder, happy to be back home in his arms. “I missed you, darling,” she murmurs.

Beneath the covers, Daniel’s hand rucks her nightgown up and slides over her round bottom. They’ve already made love once, sleepy sex in the dark when she’d tiptoed in at a quarter to four, and Peggy isn’t wearing underwear. “Not as much as I missed you,” he whispers as she shudders involuntarily. “D’you think we have time before the kids wake up?”

“So long as you’re quick about it.” Peggy parts her legs to allow him better access.

Daniel’s teeth tug at her earlobe. “Me?” he teases. “What about – ”

He’s interrupted by the thump of pajama-clad feet on the stairs. Both parents wait with bated breath. Then Michael whoops, “Mom’s home! Colleen, get up, get up, she’s here!”

Peggy groans and buries her face in the pillow. “Remind me why we had children again?” she asks, voice muffled.

“Because we wanted them,” Daniel reminds her, pulling the covers up strategically before their 7-year-old son and 6-year-old daughter can burst through the door.

There’s a good deal of shouting as Michael and Colleen tumble into bed with their parents. A child-sized elbow catches Daniel in the solar plexus.  _ “Oof,”  _ he huffs as Colleen scrabbles into Peggy’s lap. 

Michael wraps his arms around his mother’s neck. “D’you know how I knew you were here?” he asks, breathless. “I looked out my window this morning and saw tire tracks in the snow on the driveway. I thought, ‘Gee, I wonder who might’ve pulled in.’ Then I realized it was Thursday, and Dad said you’d be home on Thursday! So I ran downstairs to see if your bag was in the hallway, and it was!”

Daniel taps his son on the shoulder. “Mikey, your mom can’t breathe.”

“Oops,” says Michael sheepishly.

But Peggy’s laughing. “Wonderfully deduced,” she tells him, stroking his cheek. She never lets herself think about how much she misses Daniel and the children when she’s away. She never would be able to leave them if she did.

“Someday I’m going to be a CIA agent,” Michael boasts. “Like Dad!” He beams up at his father, who affectionately ruffles his son’s hair. These days, Daniel’s an analyst, but as far as Michael’s concerned, his dad has the coolest job in the world. Little does he know it’s his mother who’s next in line to lead Supreme Headquarters, International Espionage, Law-Enforcement Division, better known as S.H.I.E.L.D. 

Colleen has her fingers twined in Peggy’s curls, which any other morning would be pinned up. “Mommy, can we go see Santa tonight? Daddy said we had to wait for you to get home.”

“Oh did he?” Peggy asks, glancing sideways at her husband, who nods.

Colleen nods solemnly. “Susie says you can pick anything out of the Sears Christmas Book, and Santa will bring it to you.”

“And here I thought Santa shopped at Debenham’s,” Peggy quips, but the joke’s lost on Colleen.

“No, Mommy,” Colleen says, like she can’t believe how stupid her mother’s being,  _ “Sears.” _

Daniel clears his throat. “Your mother just got home,” he points out. “Let me discuss it with her tonight. Maybe we can go this weekend.”

Colleen sticks out her lower lip. “But – ”

“No arguing, Colleen,” Daniel says sternly. He nudges Michael. “Hey, Mikey, hand me my crutch, will you?” He shuffles the kids out of the room. 

Peggy waits until he’s closed the door behind them to slide out of bed. “Really, Daniel?” she asks, slipping her robe on and tying it tightly. “What’s there to discuss? Let’s go tonight, get it over with. It’ll be a madhouse this weekend, I’m sure.”

She’s not sure why his Adam’s apple bobs. “Peggy,” Daniel says quietly, “we should talk about – ” there’s a crash from the kitchen, followed by a swear a 7-year-old shouldn’t know “ – Michael’s wishlist.”

Only there isn’t time to talk about it, not with a spill to clean up and two children to chauffer to St. Mary’s. Daniel tells his wife to have a good day in the same breath he asks Colleen what she’s done with her mittens. Peggy forgets all about visiting Santa until Jack saunters into her office at the end of the day.

“Do you have any idea how much two Little Miss Revlon dolls cost?” he complains, kicking his feet up on her desk.

Jack’s daughters are 6, 5 and 3. “Only two?” Peggy inquires, not bothering to look up from her report on the assassination attempt on President Sukarno.

Obviously restless, Jack swings his legs down. “Ruthie’s not getting one,” he declares. “She’s 3. She doesn’t need a doll that costs as much as a six-shooter.”

“And what did Gloria say when you put your foot down?” asks Peggy, finally lifting her head, the corners of her mouth turning upward in amusement.

“Ah, well,” says Jack, ducking his head. He mumbles something that sounds suspiciously like, “I still need to tell her.”

Peggy rises and begins to collect her things. “You know, Jack,” she says, shoving files into her briefcase, “you’re going to have to send all three of them to college someday, not just your two favorites.”

“Don’t be ridiculous, Marge, they’re girls. I’ll be paying for weddings, not degrees.” 

Peggy crosses her arms. “Is there something you need, Jack, or did you just drop in to complain about the Sears Christmas Book? Because if we’re all done here – ” she taps her toe impatiently “ – I’d really like to get home to my children.” 

Jack watches her fasten her traveling cloak. “Someone’s in a hurry,” he observes.

“I have been gone for nine days,” she points out, “but if you must know, Daniel and I are going to take the kids to see Santa tonight.”

“I hope Colleen asks for a Little Miss Revlon doll of her own,” Jack says sourly as Peggy hits the lights, “the one with the velvet coat and bunny fur trim.” He calls after her, “Page 189!”

Peggy smiles. For all his bellyaching, Jack dotes on his girls.

The Sears in Vineland is all decked out for the holidays, tinsel at every turn. It’s crowded, too, so Peggy reaches for Colleen’s hand as they make their way to the escalators. “Michael,” she says, keeping a watchful eye on both her son and Daniel, trudging dutifully behind them, “I need you to stay close.”

“I will,” he promises.

But Santa’s second floor workshop proves to be too great a temptation for an almost 8-year-old boy, even one generally as well-behaved as Michael. “Look, Mom!” he cries excitedly, a second before Peggy loses track of him.

_ “Damn,”  _ she swears, the same word her son had used that morning when he’d tried to make tea and dropped the kettle.

“Guess he learned it from you, then,” Daniel mutters, swinging forward on his crutch. “He can’t have gone far. I’ll go find him. Excuse me, pardon me, coming through ... ”

Peggy bites her lip and tells herself he’s absolutely right, now is not the time for hysterics. After all, she hadn’t panicked when she was shot at in Indonesia. She’s in a department store in New Jersey, for heaven’s sake. She tugs on her daughter’s hand. “Come, Colleen. We need to wait for Daddy and – ”

Peggy turns, and suddenly she’s face-to-face with Captain America.

Well, not Steve Rogers. But a life-size mannequin that looks an awful lot like him. If he’d been three inches shorter. Peggy covers her mouth, forgetting entirely to hold tight to Colleen.

Fortunately, Colleen doesn’t take a cue out of her brother’s playbook. “Mommy,” she whispers urgently, tugging on a fistful of Peggy’s dress, “that’s Captain America.”

“I know, sweetheart,” Peggy manages, chest tight.

“He was a war hero, and he carried a shield, and – ”

“Peggy!”

She’s not sure she’s ever been as relieved to see anyone as she is to see her husband weaving through the crowd, Michael in tow. Daniel gives their son a little shove forward. “Apologize.”

“Sorry,” Michael mutters. He steals a glance at the red, white and blue shield mannequin Cap is carrying, then quickly averts his eyes.

“Michael,” Daniel prompts.

“I shouldn’t have run off,” Michael mumbles. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He tilts his chin up, lower lip trembling. Voice barely above a whisper, he asks, “Are you going to tell Santa?”

Peggy melts. “Come here,” she orders, drawing him toward her. She holds Michael at arm’s length. “I think this can stay between us. What do you think, Daniel?”

“I think you’re lucky Mom’s home,” Daniel tells Michael, though he squeezes his son’s shoulder.

“Can  _ I _ tell Santa?” Colleen wants to know. “Maybe he’ll bring me – ”

“No, Colleen,” says Daniel, steering her toward the red velvet ropes cordoning off Santa. The kids corralled, he curls an arm around his wife. “I’m sorry I didn’t warn you, Peg,” he murmurs, lips grazing her temple. “I’m pretty sure Mikey’s going to ask for – ”

“Steve’s shield?” Peggy supplies. “Yes, Daniel, I’d gathered as much.” She forces a smile.

“You’re OK with it?”

“Are you?”

Daniel shrugs noncommittally. “Guy saved my life with it,” he says out of the corner of his mouth. “The actual vibranium shield, that is. Something tells me the tin one we’re about to pay six bucks for won’t deflect bullets.” He grimaces as the line lurches forward and he’s forced to put weight on his bad leg.

Peggy glares at the man who’d jostled her husband, threading her arm through Daniel’s. Ahead of them, the children play pat-a-cake, Michael clearly trying to atone for his bad behavior earlier by occupying his sister. “I think,” she says softly, “I’ll tell Michael about Steve when we give him his shield. I’d rather he learn about the man who carried it from us than a comic book.”

Much to her surprise, Daniel nods. “I’d like to tell him about Bastogne myself, if you don’t mind.” The kids of course know their father is missing a leg, but Peggy hadn’t wanted them traumatized with too many details up until this point.

“Do you really think he’s ready?” she asks skeptically.

“He’s getting older, Peg,” Daniel points out. “He’ll be 8 in a week.” 

She twists her head up to look at her husband. “I suppose you’re right.”

“Can I get that in writing?”

Peggy swats at him, then rests her head on his shoulder. “I love you, Daniel,” she says.

At the same time, he tells her, “I love you, Peg.”

**Author's Note:**

> According to my mom, who's only a couple of years younger than Colleen, riding the escalators at the big downtown Sears was almost as big of a deal as seeing Santa. My grandpa used to tell her Santa was on a budget, so they could only pick out toys from certain pages. You can page through the 1957 Sears Christmas Book [here](http://192.185.93.157/~wishbook/1957_Sears_Christmas/index.htm). 
> 
> (The Little Miss Revlon dolls Susan, Joan and Ruth Ann Thompson want for Christmas really are on page 189!)
> 
> But you won't find Captain America's shield anywhere because he didn't see his comic book resurgence until the 1960s. I've taken a few liberties in the storytelling, obviously.
> 
> Next up: Christmas 1974 (Michael is about to turn 25, Colleen is 23).


End file.
